tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-79458833500186819932014-10-06T19:29:20.034-07:00Crooked Ear ChroniclesNinanoreply@blogger.comBlogger24125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7945883350018681993.post-81895245803047724552011-06-17T06:30:00.000-07:002011-06-27T13:02:35.804-07:00Rodney Resigns Due To Scandal<div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-TwPnn5HwCFg/TftXY3JQD-I/AAAAAAAACbk/RPSsKNzJVP8/s1600/sexting-resized.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5619181044706054114" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-TwPnn5HwCFg/TftXY3JQD-I/AAAAAAAACbk/RPSsKNzJVP8/s400/sexting-resized.jpg" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="FONT-STYLE: italic">Inappropriate photo leaked to the public</span></span><br /></div><br />I <a href="http://newyork.cbslocal.com/2011/06/16/full-transcript-of-rep-anthony-weiners-resignation-speech/"><span style="color:#3366ff;">apologize</span></a> for the distraction that I have created.<br /><br />About 2 years ago, I went on this very same website and <a style="COLOR: rgb(51,51,255)" href="http://crookedears.blogspot.com/2009/01/new-era.html">declared my intention</a> to answer a higher calling. I took a chance and entered the world of community service. There is no higher honor in a subdivision than being sent by your neighbors to represent them.<br /><br />I admit to being confused. I had no idea that the things I do every day could be construed as so titillating and inappropriate. But since the designer handbag dogs across the street will not let this go, I suppose I should examine my behavior and perhaps seek treatment.<br /><br /><br /><br /><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-i6r9BX2Dql0/TftYbLUzn9I/AAAAAAAACbs/foAx2cj9jpg/s1600/pajamas-resized.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 264px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5619182183994597330" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-i6r9BX2Dql0/TftYbLUzn9I/AAAAAAAACbs/foAx2cj9jpg/s400/pajamas-resized.jpg" /></a><span style="FONT-STYLE: italic;font-size:85%;" >Perhaps bedroom activities should remain between a dog and his human's pajamas.</span> </div><br />The middle class story of Michigan is my story, and I'm very proud of that. My mother lived with a schoolteacher for 10 years. Though he had limited education, my father pooped near that neighborhood school on his morning walks. That's how they met.<br /><br /><br /><br /><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-2tv11mcTkYQ/TftZOT97skI/AAAAAAAACb0/k9F1TpSU4VY/s1600/Balls.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 284px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5619183062487904834" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-2tv11mcTkYQ/TftZOT97skI/AAAAAAAACb0/k9F1TpSU4VY/s400/Balls.jpg" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;"> <span style="FONT-STYLE: italic">How is having a ball or two in your mouth controversial?</span></span><br /></div><br />It is time that I admit I have engaged in inappropriate exchanges with birds who have tweeted at me from neighborhood trees. This led to sharing intimate photos of myself with them, as well as with a few of the neighborhood bunny rabbits and kitty cats over the past few years. Perhaps I sniffed in a few places I shouldn't have, but it was all innocent banter, and I assumed these exchanges would remain private. Based on their various wing spans, territory acquisition, and hunting abilities, I assumed they were all past their respective juvenile stages, but who really knows? Crap.<br /><br /><br /><br /><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-3J0SF0eOm5o/TftblAeDCXI/AAAAAAAACcE/6rYW7EEZDJI/s1600/festive-resized.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5619185651414141298" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-3J0SF0eOm5o/TftblAeDCXI/AAAAAAAACcE/6rYW7EEZDJI/s400/festive-resized.jpg" /></a></div><br /><br /><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center"><span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"><span style="font-size:85%;">I admit that I lied before when I said that this drink had been photoshopped in and that I had been hacked. </span></span><span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"><span style="font-size:85%;">So I like to get festive now and then. Is that a crime?</span></span></div><br /><br /><br /><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: left">Though I am not leaving Crooked Ears, it is time I left my selfless political aspirations behind. I will return to a life of lazy entitlement so that my humans and I can continue to heal from the damage I have caused.<br /><br /><br /><br /><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-0O3TE4al7sA/TftZhwX40pI/AAAAAAAACb8/MrwWXw-lmGg/s1600/lounging-resized.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 258px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5619183396530475666" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-0O3TE4al7sA/TftZhwX40pI/AAAAAAAACb8/MrwWXw-lmGg/s400/lounging-resized.jpg" /></a><span style="FONT-STYLE: italic;font-size:85%;" >This photo is a bit blurry, so it cannot be proven with certitude that this is me</span>. </div></div>Ninanoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7945883350018681993.post-24116003937494633832009-10-13T18:11:00.000-07:002009-10-13T18:56:09.385-07:00Brush Me Like It's My BirthdayI am a mature 4 year old as of today.<br />In celebration, I've decided to give something back to the community.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_rSl4smdeFYQ/StUvdJ31nAI/AAAAAAAAB44/RFPQ5QUvk6w/s1600-h/IMG_4075_sml.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 282px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_rSl4smdeFYQ/StUvdJ31nAI/AAAAAAAAB44/RFPQ5QUvk6w/s320/IMG_4075_sml.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5392268306758867970" border="0" /></a><br />I wanted to contribute in a way that could benefit others. What do I have enough of that I could donate a portion without missing it? What, aside from my intellect and handsomeness, could bring happiness to my neighborhood? After giving it much thought, I realized that the spaces under the furniture and in the corners of the house really don't have much use for my excess hair; why not make it available for community use?<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_rSl4smdeFYQ/StUpB5UHHhI/AAAAAAAAB4g/s4CoYAF6O9w/s1600-h/BirdhouseCropped.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 280px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_rSl4smdeFYQ/StUpB5UHHhI/AAAAAAAAB4g/s4CoYAF6O9w/s400/BirdhouseCropped.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5392261241387818514" border="0" /></a>I've noticed some of the locals collecting twigs and handy pieces of string to make their homes more comfortable. Why not use something more luxurious? Come winter I may need to hold onto it, but right now it's fair game for anyone who wants it.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_rSl4smdeFYQ/StUvndeJizI/AAAAAAAAB5A/ue_THxMr7Ew/s1600-h/BirdontheGround.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 165px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_rSl4smdeFYQ/StUvndeJizI/AAAAAAAAB5A/ue_THxMr7Ew/s400/BirdontheGround.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5392268483818523442" border="0" /></a>This has nothing to do with my parents threatening to shave me. It is purely voluntary.<br />Happy Birthday to me!Ninanoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7945883350018681993.post-91591492307602202042009-10-03T11:12:00.000-07:002009-10-05T09:40:19.329-07:00My Mother is Completely IneptCan't a guy get a pedicure around here without bleeding to death? You have asked me for my trust and, foolishly, I have given it.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_rSl4smdeFYQ/SseVToc_a0I/AAAAAAAAByQ/UpJrdjFz42k/s1600-h/Manicure.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5388439643681155906" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; WIDTH: 269px; CURSOR: pointer; HEIGHT: 359px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_rSl4smdeFYQ/SseVToc_a0I/AAAAAAAAByQ/UpJrdjFz42k/s400/Manicure.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />I was leery at first, but I thought we had this procedure figured out after three years.<br /><br />NOW <span style="FONT-STYLE: italic">THIS</span>!<br /><br />You carelessly hack part of my limb off, then want me to give you my other paw so you can "<span style="FONT-STYLE: italic">finish the job</span>"? I'm sorry, I don't think I heard you correctly over the sound of my life trickling away.<br /><br />Is this some kind of sick payback for getting unidentified brown stains on your pillow while you were at work?<br /><br />I hope you are prepared to stay home and spoon feed me while I convalesce because I will no doubt need a blood transfusion and full body cast when you are through.Ninanoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7945883350018681993.post-82368773856242220802009-05-04T12:43:00.000-07:002009-05-04T16:30:47.027-07:00Rodney Vs The Toothbrush<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_rSl4smdeFYQ/Sf92mDEUJ9I/AAAAAAAABjU/t1-IoCmnzyo/s1600-h/TB1.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_rSl4smdeFYQ/Sf92mDEUJ9I/AAAAAAAABjU/t1-IoCmnzyo/s400/TB1.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5332110879860467666" border="0" /></a>I do not like the look of this device.<div> </div><br /><div>Dental hygiene? Gingivitis? Trench Mouth? These are not real words; your Jedi mind tricks will not work on me.</div><br /><div> </div>It's supposed to go <em>where</em>? Just because I ate that loose concrete from the basement floor that one time does not mean I will put just anything in my mouth.<br /><div> </div><br /><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_rSl4smdeFYQ/Sf92y-kprxI/AAAAAAAABjc/5DehHO4SkdY/s1600-h/TB2.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_rSl4smdeFYQ/Sf92y-kprxI/AAAAAAAABjc/5DehHO4SkdY/s200/TB2.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5332111101992218386" border="0" /></a>Wait...Why do I smell chicken? I suppose a closer inspection would not go amiss...</div><div> </div><br /><div><a style="color: rgb(51, 51, 153);" href="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3397/3501907189_694ccdeb59_o.jpg"><em><strong>Zeus and Apollo!</strong></em></a> It is a delicious celebration of poultry in a tube!<br /><br /><br />Can you still manage to clean my teeth while I desperately try to lick all of it from the brush? Well, try harder because I'm not going to stop. Ever. Not even years from now when you're still trying to get me to grasp the concept of this activity.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_rSl4smdeFYQ/Sf92I82QeVI/AAAAAAAABjM/PX4Kzh2o5Z8/s1600-h/TB4.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_rSl4smdeFYQ/Sf92I82QeVI/AAAAAAAABjM/PX4Kzh2o5Z8/s400/TB4.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5332110379974687058" border="0" /></a><br /></div>Ninanoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7945883350018681993.post-71312592648270011982009-03-09T17:17:00.000-07:002009-03-09T18:15:55.363-07:00Rodney Vs. The Refrigerator<object width="320" height="266" class="BLOG_video_class" id="BLOG_video-4495e58f879c1d5a" classid="clsid:D27CDB6E-AE6D-11cf-96B8-444553540000" codebase="http://download.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=6,0,40,0"><param name="movie" value="//www.youtube.com/get_player"><param name="bgcolor" value="#FFFFFF"><param name="allowfullscreen" value="true"><param name="flashvars" value="flvurl=http://redirector.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3D4495e58f879c1d5a%26itag%3D5%26source%3Dblogger%26app%3Dblogger%26cmo%3Dsensitive_content%3Dyes%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1429981907%26sparams%3Dip,ipbits,expire,id,itag,source%26signature%3D19CCA788BCA479E9A3825825967AA4C9F4BC5CEA.6D2FB3AA173AADD94953D9938930F4B6220EC42D%26key%3Dck2&amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3D4495e58f879c1d5a%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3DqXz-SSRHO6qQV7mqWWOxH3jCkko&amp;autoplay=0&amp;ps=blogger"><embed src="//www.youtube.com/get_player" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" width="320" height="266" bgcolor="#FFFFFF" flashvars="flvurl=http://redirector.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3D4495e58f879c1d5a%26itag%3D5%26source%3Dblogger%26app%3Dblogger%26cmo%3Dsensitive_content%3Dyes%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1429981907%26sparams%3Dip,ipbits,expire,id,itag,source%26signature%3D19CCA788BCA479E9A3825825967AA4C9F4BC5CEA.6D2FB3AA173AADD94953D9938930F4B6220EC42D%26key%3Dck2&iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3D4495e58f879c1d5a%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3DqXz-SSRHO6qQV7mqWWOxH3jCkko&autoplay=0&ps=blogger" allowFullScreen="true" /></object><br />Will I never again enjoy a peaceful moment? I have lived in harmony with this appliance for two years; now, the ever-dormant device on it's once peaceful facade has sprung to life! Why can't people lick water from a bowl on the floor like normal creatures? Must they have combative ice that propels itself across the room? I don't need a frozen dagger to the eyeball, thank you. Also, the path through the kitchen should be clear in the event a quick get-a-way is in order. Slipping on a stray ice cube and landing in the garbage can is not my preferred modus operandi.<br /><br />If anyone needs me, I will be under the bed.Ninanoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7945883350018681993.post-26651586582186337652009-01-31T17:41:00.001-08:002009-02-02T10:40:04.439-08:00A New Era<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_rSl4smdeFYQ/SYT94RxergI/AAAAAAAABic/ZFh6LMsZwKk/s1600-h/dingbat.gif"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5297638204979981826" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; WIDTH: 202px; CURSOR: pointer; HEIGHT: 301px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_rSl4smdeFYQ/SYT94RxergI/AAAAAAAABic/ZFh6LMsZwKk/s320/dingbat.gif" border="0" /></a>I have decided to run for office. After consulting with my chief aid and sounding board (my sister, Zoe), it has become clear that I am meant to do great things. Not just in the world of canine mystery and crime, but for the community at large.<br /><br />What kind of office, you ask? I haven't decided yet, but some ideas I had were Emperor of Dogpark Development, Litterbox Snackbowl Committee President (probably falls under Health and Canine Services), or Beef Jerky Czar. But Zoe says it doesn't really matter. "As long as you have an inspiring image and slogan," she said, "the right opportunity to serve your fellow citizens will come to you." At her suggestion, I left the details up to her and she has provided this iconic image and slogan.<br /><br />The photo of me clearly shows my intelligence and stoic demeanor, and the term 'Dingbat', Zoe explained, denotes a born leader of rousing omnipotence. I want to inspire excitement and confidence in my constituents, and Zoe assures me that this image was designed with that in mind.<br /><br />My gratitude for her efforts in plastering these posters all over town is overflowing. I only hope that I am able to live up to the high standard this image conveys and I hereby assure my fellow citizens that I will work tirelessly to that end.<br /><br />Yours in service,<br />Rodney<span style="FONT-STYLE: italic;font-size:85%;" ><br /><br /><span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold;font-size:100%;" >**Update**</span><br /><br />It has been discovered that a subliminal message lurks within Rodney's campaign poster. When extracted using high-tech gadgetry (similar to what one would see in a movie circa 1980), the image below presents itself.<br /></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_rSl4smdeFYQ/SYY8jLLaqgI/AAAAAAAABik/CycOtcbA960/s1600-h/worship.gif"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5297988586641730050" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; WIDTH: 134px; CURSOR: pointer; HEIGHT: 200px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_rSl4smdeFYQ/SYY8jLLaqgI/AAAAAAAABik/CycOtcbA960/s200/worship.gif" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="FONT-STYLE: italic;font-size:85%;" ><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />"Nonsense. Just keep looking at the poster."-Zoe<br /></span>Ninanoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7945883350018681993.post-68267315889942431492009-01-01T13:09:00.000-08:002009-02-02T10:47:23.051-08:00Happy New Year and Happy Birthday To Me<span style="COLOR: rgb(153,51,0)">I, Zoe, am age 5 as of today - 1 January 2009</span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_rSl4smdeFYQ/SV0xXyrcU4I/AAAAAAAABZ8/ANABFn2qmco/s1600-h/P1010294_sml.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5286435822413566850" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: pointer; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_rSl4smdeFYQ/SV0xXyrcU4I/AAAAAAAABZ8/ANABFn2qmco/s400/P1010294_sml.JPG" border="0" /></a>I reached the milestone age of 5 today and would like to take some time to reflect on my life thus far.<br />Here are some points of note:<br /><br />~Leaving the Royal Oak Animal Shelter in August 2004. The people were nice but they named me "Reba". This is something I have worked very hard to forget.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_rSl4smdeFYQ/SV1xWCiSo5I/AAAAAAAABaE/783ZuBQrZp4/s1600-h/Shelter.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5286506161054589842" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: pointer; HEIGHT: 267px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_rSl4smdeFYQ/SV1xWCiSo5I/AAAAAAAABaE/783ZuBQrZp4/s400/Shelter.jpg" border="0" /></a>~Playing ball in my back yard for the first time.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_rSl4smdeFYQ/SV1yQwaVkKI/AAAAAAAABaM/tmyy4nYq9PU/s1600-h/P1000862-01.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5286507169801670818" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: pointer; HEIGHT: 302px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_rSl4smdeFYQ/SV1yQwaVkKI/AAAAAAAABaM/tmyy4nYq9PU/s400/P1000862-01.jpg" border="0" /></a>~Destroying some fun toys:<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_rSl4smdeFYQ/SV1y0yrGYyI/AAAAAAAABaU/j_lKEZZte0c/s1600-h/FavoriteToy-01.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5286507788884140834" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; WIDTH: 191px; CURSOR: pointer; HEIGHT: 200px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_rSl4smdeFYQ/SV1y0yrGYyI/AAAAAAAABaU/j_lKEZZte0c/s200/FavoriteToy-01.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_rSl4smdeFYQ/SV1zOz884DI/AAAAAAAABak/nf83M7tL_z8/s1600-h/P1010528-01.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5286508235904049202" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: pointer; HEIGHT: 179px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_rSl4smdeFYQ/SV1zOz884DI/AAAAAAAABak/nf83M7tL_z8/s200/P1010528-01.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br />~Enthusiastically learning to swim:<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_rSl4smdeFYQ/SV1zpWs369I/AAAAAAAABas/3FBKJZ6aDmQ/s1600-h/IMG_1222-01.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5286508691908455378" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; WIDTH: 266px; CURSOR: pointer; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_rSl4smdeFYQ/SV1zpWs369I/AAAAAAAABas/3FBKJZ6aDmQ/s320/IMG_1222-01.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />~Summitting Mountains:<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_rSl4smdeFYQ/SV10OC--VzI/AAAAAAAABa0/hwa0XRVrn6I/s1600-h/P1020707-01.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5286509322270824242" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: pointer; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_rSl4smdeFYQ/SV10OC--VzI/AAAAAAAABa0/hwa0XRVrn6I/s400/P1020707-01.jpg" border="0" /></a>~Okay, there were a few indignities:<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_rSl4smdeFYQ/SV11L06breI/AAAAAAAABa8/ObE10I5apKI/s1600-h/P1010439-01.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5286510383645568482" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; WIDTH: 116px; CURSOR: pointer; HEIGHT: 200px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_rSl4smdeFYQ/SV11L06breI/AAAAAAAABa8/ObE10I5apKI/s200/P1010439-01.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_rSl4smdeFYQ/SV11hDLltMI/AAAAAAAABbM/QKfHhrcRYAc/s1600-h/P1010360-01.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5286510748252878018" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 145px; CURSOR: pointer; HEIGHT: 200px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_rSl4smdeFYQ/SV11hDLltMI/AAAAAAAABbM/QKfHhrcRYAc/s200/P1010360-01.jpg" border="0" /></a>But still, lots of memorable stuff.<br />~Fun times in the car:<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_rSl4smdeFYQ/SV2AuiIEQOI/AAAAAAAABbs/2Cpmj_EnxWo/s1600-h/car-01.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5286523074525806818" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: pointer; HEIGHT: 224px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_rSl4smdeFYQ/SV2AuiIEQOI/AAAAAAAABbs/2Cpmj_EnxWo/s400/car-01.jpg" border="0" /></a>~The surprise arrival, by stork, of my "little" brother:<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_rSl4smdeFYQ/SV113YA4bgI/AAAAAAAABbU/jr3j1pcRcQk/s1600-h/IMG_0870-01.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5286511131802234370" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: pointer; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_rSl4smdeFYQ/SV113YA4bgI/AAAAAAAABbU/jr3j1pcRcQk/s400/IMG_0870-01.jpg" border="0" /></a>~Camping:<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_rSl4smdeFYQ/SV12QG5S__I/AAAAAAAABbc/nFxshzPd5BM/s1600-h/P1020664-01.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5286511556703748082" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; WIDTH: 150px; CURSOR: pointer; HEIGHT: 200px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_rSl4smdeFYQ/SV12QG5S__I/AAAAAAAABbc/nFxshzPd5BM/s200/P1020664-01.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />~Playing in the snow:<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_rSl4smdeFYQ/SV13gOCkquI/AAAAAAAABbk/1QL6y2BAE8c/s1600-h/snow.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5286512933011237602" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: pointer; HEIGHT: 236px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_rSl4smdeFYQ/SV13gOCkquI/AAAAAAAABbk/1QL6y2BAE8c/s400/snow.jpg" border="0" /></a>There are many things I did not include because time is limited (Rodney needs the computer), but someday I would like to recount more of my life story. For instance: more detail of meeting the people who would become my family when I was at the shelter (and was flea-bitten and embarrassingly shabby), the day my left ear decided to stand straight up, the time the lure of adventure enticed me through a weak spot in the fence and lead me down the street for mischief, my impressive performance in "manners" class at the Michigan Humane Society, plus many other things.<br /><br />I hope everyone has a Happy New Year!Ninanoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7945883350018681993.post-21812220013340013652008-12-12T15:38:00.000-08:002008-12-12T16:14:51.353-08:00Happy Holidays!We've discovered something important this holiday season.<br /><br />Christmas (or whichever breed-specific holiday you observe) isn't about how many squeaky toys or frisbees you get. It's not about how many treats you can eat before you barf on the rug at 2:00 in the morning. It's not even about how much you can bark at the FedEx/UPS/USPS carrier when packages get dropped off at the door.<br /><br />Christmas is about doing really annoying things for your loved ones - things you wouldn't normally do because they are so stupid. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_rSl4smdeFYQ/SUL3fqFeYII/AAAAAAAABUw/SNw_qs2Sz8c/s1600-h/Dogmas2Lightened2.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_rSl4smdeFYQ/SUL3fqFeYII/AAAAAAAABUw/SNw_qs2Sz8c/s400/Dogmas2Lightened2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5279053836476899458" border="0" /></a><span style="font-weight: bold;">Happy Holidays from Zoe &amp; Rodney!</span>Ninanoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7945883350018681993.post-9025846321029754622008-12-10T13:41:00.000-08:002008-12-10T13:50:24.659-08:00A Perplexing Mystery...<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_rSl4smdeFYQ/SUA4XVJaVeI/AAAAAAAABUg/EZxA6lWrt3E/s1600-h/Bystanders.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_rSl4smdeFYQ/SUA4XVJaVeI/AAAAAAAABUg/EZxA6lWrt3E/s400/Bystanders.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5278280736742987234" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family:arial;">We have no idea how it happened. Been here the whole time...</span><br /><span style="font-family: arial;">However,</span> <span style="font-family:arial;">if one of us were to, as they say, </span><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:arial;" >come forward with information</span><span style="font-family:arial;">, what kind of immunity deal could be expected?</span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_rSl4smdeFYQ/SUA5HKB1hvI/AAAAAAAABUo/N3H-57Tljsk/s1600-h/wreckage.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_rSl4smdeFYQ/SUA5HKB1hvI/AAAAAAAABUo/N3H-57Tljsk/s320/wreckage.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5278281558392145650" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span>Ninanoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7945883350018681993.post-8858176690005729592008-09-12T13:05:00.001-07:002009-01-16T16:22:55.256-08:00A Few Words From Zoe:<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_rSl4smdeFYQ/SMrXnPM1HTI/AAAAAAAAA6g/E2jvaDsUVwI/s1600-h/ZoeSeatBelt_sml.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5245241785121578290" style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_rSl4smdeFYQ/SMrXnPM1HTI/AAAAAAAAA6g/E2jvaDsUVwI/s200/ZoeSeatBelt_sml.JPG" border="0" /></a><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">Safe Car Travel:</span><br />During my first long-distance vacation with my family I made a serious breach in travel etiquette. As a result, I have the following piece of advice to share with those who are planning a vacation involving car travel with their humans:<br /><br />Don't jump out of the window of a moving car no matter how tempting the scenery.<br /><br />This should be especially heeded when you are hundreds of miles from home, driving up the side of a mountain surrounded by thousands of acres of wilderness. No matter how un-spontaneous your humans may be, they usually have your best interest at heart and it's no fun to see grown people completely lose their minds.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_rSl4smdeFYQ/SMrXnFbLHEI/AAAAAAAAA6o/FQh3YfHvYUs/s1600-h/P1020673_sml.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5245241782497385538" style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_rSl4smdeFYQ/SMrXnFbLHEI/AAAAAAAAA6o/FQh3YfHvYUs/s200/P1020673_sml.JPG" border="0" /></a>Riding in the car is serious business and one should always observe rules of safe travel. However, please note that while canine seat belts are generally beneficial and help to set your humans' minds at ease, they are not foolproof against the occasional cosmic moment of serendipity. Human technology was no match for the series of precisely-timed magical events that converged to create the perfect moment of opportunity while on vacation at Shenandoah National Park a few years ago.<br /><br />In the few seconds it took Nina to slow the car just enough so Craig could snap a photo o<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_rSl4smdeFYQ/SMrYNkaOWZI/AAAAAAAAA7A/7DBhRXde0rQ/s1600-h/P1020637_sml.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5245242443649931666" style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_rSl4smdeFYQ/SMrYNkaOWZI/AAAAAAAAA7A/7DBhRXde0rQ/s200/P1020637_sml.JPG" border="0" /></a>f a deer strolling casually along the shoulder of the mountain road, I was out and running full speed away from our direction of travel – several of the deer's friends fleeing in front of me, and Nina, momentarily stunned with confusion over what she was seeing, gaping at me in the rear view mirror. In my fervor to get a better look at the unfamiliar animals, I hopped around a bit on the seat and managed, by sheer luck, to step on my seat belt release button and launched myself out of the open window.<br /><br />I ran as fast as I could after a small group of deer who eventually jumped over the side of the road a few hundred feet from the car in <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_rSl4smdeFYQ/SMrXnSCzfOI/AAAAAAAAA6w/oHpgB-TjxiE/s1600-h/P1020636_sml.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5245241785884835042" style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_rSl4smdeFYQ/SMrXnSCzfOI/AAAAAAAAA6w/oHpgB-TjxiE/s200/P1020636_sml.JPG" border="0" /></a>an attempt to elude me down a steep slope through the thick forest. I skidded to a halt and faced a moment of indecision. It looked exciting down there; should I follow? I heard my human companions' quavering, watery voices screaming and pleading with me to please, please stay. Indecisive, I inched a bit closer to the edge and looked over. I sniffed all sorts of things I had never smelled before in the vastness in front of me. But now there was more begging and something being said about treats distracting me from behind and I turned around to see my family looking extremely distraught. At this point I realized I must have made a blunder and allowed them to swarm upon me, sobbing.<br /><br />Once back in the car their shock was replaced by hysterical laughter and joking. They howled over the idea of firmly strapping me to the seat like someone named Hannibal Lecter and something was said about a face mask, but I didn't understand the joke. All I know is that my window remained barely cracked from that moment forward and when other exciting situations presented themselves, I was in no position to take advantage.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_rSl4smdeFYQ/SMrX_BkNClI/AAAAAAAAA64/hdUj3akwysg/s1600-h/P1020715_sml.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5245242193778379346" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; cursor: pointer; text-align: center;" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_rSl4smdeFYQ/SMrX_BkNClI/AAAAAAAAA64/hdUj3akwysg/s320/P1020715_sml.JPG" border="0" /></a>Although it was understood that this incident was no more than a freak occurrence, it was a long time before I was trusted with more than a few inches of flowing air. Ultimately it was my decision to leap from the window no matter how much blame I would like to put on fate, the cosmos, and paranormal phenomena. Tempting opportunities will present themselves, but by remaining in the car whenever it's moving you will earn your humans' trust and preserve their fragile sanity. Crazy people tend to act erradically, neglect their hygiene, eat poorly, and hoard cats. You don't want that.Ninanoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7945883350018681993.post-28419101763332048622008-09-01T11:05:00.000-07:002008-09-02T09:49:39.765-07:00Rodney Vs. The Balloon<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_rSl4smdeFYQ/SLxOAeGb9LI/AAAAAAAAAvQ/_ai2eYoFv6M/s1600-h/IMG_0228_sml.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5241149836339442866" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; CURSOR: pointer" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_rSl4smdeFYQ/SLxOAeGb9LI/AAAAAAAAAvQ/_ai2eYoFv6M/s200/IMG_0228_sml.JPG" border="0" /></a>I am very upset.<br /><br />My humans came home from shopping today and showered me with praise for being a <span style="FONT-STYLE: italic">Good Boy</span>. You see, I used to have trouble on my own in the house when they left. I was young and unsure of myself and, due to a few incidents in which I destroyed some household items, I decided it was in <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">everyone's</span></span> best interest that I retire to my den when left without human companionship. The humans call it a <span style="FONT-STYLE: italic">crate </span>but it's really very homey and I feel comfortable there. Although I have the pleasure of Zoe's company, in the beginning I found the almost empty house a bit overwhelming and - <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">ok</span></span> I'll admit it - frightening. Do not scoff! I was a mere pup.<br /><br />Needless to say, I have matured. In recent months I have begun to trust my humans with little tests where I allow them to leave me in the house, outside of my den for small intervals of time. Gradually, I have encouraged them to lengthen the duration of these so-called <span style="FONT-STYLE: italic">Big Boy Tests</span> in order to prove that they can trust my command of the situation.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_rSl4smdeFYQ/SLw6_F5YXHI/AAAAAAAAAt4/DAwk6xnCOCg/s1600-h/1-TheSurprise_sml.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5241128921941433458" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: pointer; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_rSl4smdeFYQ/SLw6_F5YXHI/AAAAAAAAAt4/DAwk6xnCOCg/s320/1-TheSurprise_sml.JPG" border="0" /></a>Today, however, they have grievously injured my trust! I was informed that as a "reward" a present awaited me on my <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">doggie</span> bed. I eagerly trotted to happily receive my entitled gift. Instead, what I found was an unnerving, levitating agent of the macabre!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_rSl4smdeFYQ/SLw7bXrmj3I/AAAAAAAAAuI/do04Bv31gxo/s1600-h/2-Wariness_sml.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5241129407751819122" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; CURSOR: pointer" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_rSl4smdeFYQ/SLw7bXrmj3I/AAAAAAAAAuI/do04Bv31gxo/s200/2-Wariness_sml.JPG" border="0" /></a>There, floating as if filled with some kind of sinister power of the most evil sorcery, was a terrible, bulbous orange fiend! My face fell and I was filled with wariness.<br /><br /><span style="FONT-STYLE: italic">What is this devilry?!</span><br /><br />Zoe, with her customary brashness, offered to check the suspicious entity out for me. After stampeding the object and assailing it with a paw, she <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_rSl4smdeFYQ/SLw76MFAjcI/AAAAAAAAAuQ/d6ZS5QJDUeU/s1600-h/3-TheTest_sml.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5241129937213099458" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; CURSOR: pointer" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_rSl4smdeFYQ/SLw76MFAjcI/AAAAAAAAAuQ/d6ZS5QJDUeU/s200/3-TheTest_sml.JPG" border="0" /></a>declared it appeared to be safe but that I should perhaps observe caution. However, I felt there was a chance she was not being entirely truthful and was, perhaps, disgruntled at the clear absence of any gifts bearing her name.<br /><br />Nevertheless, she encouraged me to approach, and I acquiesced - not without a few growls of warning, however. I wanted the unsettling life form to know that I was aware of its shiftiness and would not be taken by surprise.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_rSl4smdeFYQ/SLw9mTESdAI/AAAAAAAAAug/1vg25m8qqZY/s1600-h/4-TheApproach_sml.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5241131794514998274" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: pointer; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_rSl4smdeFYQ/SLw9mTESdAI/AAAAAAAAAug/1vg25m8qqZY/s320/4-TheApproach_sml.JPG" border="0" /></a>Oh, the Horrors! I was wrong! It bobbed unnaturally toward me and I was no match for its cunning magic! <span style="FONT-STYLE: italic">I was a good boy - this is how I'm rewarded?!</span> At this point I may have become a bit unhinged; I really don't remember.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_rSl4smdeFYQ/SLw-eUBQIHI/AAAAAAAAAuo/rcQIp4Yb1LA/s1600-h/5-TheTerror_sml.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5241132756843372658" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: pointer; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_rSl4smdeFYQ/SLw-eUBQIHI/AAAAAAAAAuo/rcQIp4Yb1LA/s320/5-TheTerror_sml.JPG" border="0" /></a>Hearing my distress, the humans came rushing into the room and apprehended the villainous beast. I fled and would not be swayed by their <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_rSl4smdeFYQ/SLxARh-CJWI/AAAAAAAAAuw/oKTKXksZfe4/s1600-h/6-TheDeception_sml.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5241134736272926050" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; CURSOR: pointer" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_rSl4smdeFYQ/SLxARh-CJWI/AAAAAAAAAuw/oKTKXksZfe4/s200/6-TheDeception_sml.JPG" border="0" /></a>attempt at deception by encouraging Zoe to fraternize with the Orange Demon.<br /><br />"Show your brother that there is nothing to be afraid of, Zoe," was their blatantly twisted plan. I will stay out in the hall where it is safe, thank you. And Zoe didn't exactly look thrilled to be shackled to this <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_rSl4smdeFYQ/SLxBGs10kaI/AAAAAAAAAu4/SpAdyVIwxa8/s1600-h/7-TheAnnoyance_sml.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5241135649724338594" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; CURSOR: pointer" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_rSl4smdeFYQ/SLxBGs10kaI/AAAAAAAAAu4/SpAdyVIwxa8/s200/7-TheAnnoyance_sml.JPG" border="0" /></a>psychotic reward that was originally and sadistically meant for me. Have they gone insane?<br /><br />How am I expected to live in a house where demons float freely about, lurking around every corner? Nowhere is safe! How will I sleep with this malevolent nightmare lying in wait? How?!<br /><br />The humans admitted their extremely faulty judgment in choosing a suitable gift and I received an apology, but I am not yet fully appeased. Next time I expect something much more dignified like a squeaky toy or some peanut butter smeared on something.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_rSl4smdeFYQ/SLxUIYbqJsI/AAAAAAAAAvY/z5jaDV4-oVo/s1600-h/IMG_1100_sml.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5241156569326560962" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: pointer; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_rSl4smdeFYQ/SLxUIYbqJsI/AAAAAAAAAvY/z5jaDV4-oVo/s320/IMG_1100_sml.JPG" border="0" /></a>Ninanoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7945883350018681993.post-31954667546636315292008-05-16T17:49:00.000-07:002008-11-26T06:13:55.197-08:00Zoe's Recommended Reading:<span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold">Training People: How to Bring Out the Best in Your Human</span> <span style="FONT-STYLE: italic">-by Tess of Helena</span><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_rSl4smdeFYQ/SCzbt3ErSBI/AAAAAAAAAmw/SSjILrKe1Hc/s1600-h/ZoeBook.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5200773250630240274" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; CURSOR: pointer" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_rSl4smdeFYQ/SCzbt3ErSBI/AAAAAAAAAmw/SSjILrKe1Hc/s320/ZoeBook.jpg" border="0" /></a>My friend Fifi (of San Francisco) recently sent me a copy of <span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold; FONT-STYLE: italic">Training People</span> by a dog named Tess who lives in Helena, Montana with a few expertly-trained human beings. Although I have fully mastered my humans and have no intention of getting new ones any time soon (they have a few good years left), it doesn’t hurt to refresh oneself with some tried and true techniques. Fifi is currently utilizing Tess’s methods to deal with her people who are showing resistance to her right to eat things like expensive books (human-oriented) and footwear.<br /><br />A helpful handbook for those who are just starting out and have yet to master the basics of human ownership, <span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold; FONT-STYLE: italic">Training People</span> builds itself around a simple concept: Humans have been bred to cater to dogs; we must simply work through their reluctance to embrace our superiority.<br /><br />Topics include:<br />• Choosing a suitable human based on their appearance and attitude<br />• How to avoid eating food you don’t like<br />• Discipline and positive encouragement of good human behavior based on physical cues (tail wagging, etc.)<br />• Genital inhibition in humans<br /><br />Perhaps the most impressive element of this book is the author’s coverage of <span style="FONT-STYLE: italic">The Intent Stare</span> – a technique at which I am so highly skilled that I’m ashamed I did not write this book myself!<br /><br />I highly recommend <span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold; FONT-STYLE: italic">Training People: How to Bring Out the Best in Your Human</span> to any dog who is thinking about embarking on the simultaneously frustrating and rewarding journey of human ownership. By learning to work through the many personality defects, behavioral issues, and intelligence shortcomings in people, dogs will be forever rewarded with their unconditional devotion and companionship.<br /><br /><div></div>Ninanoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7945883350018681993.post-21570361156360045932008-05-16T17:45:00.000-07:002009-03-10T11:20:04.587-07:00Rodney's Recommended Reading:<span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold">Everyone Poops</span> <span style="FONT-STYLE: italic">–by Taro Gomi </span><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_rSl4smdeFYQ/SCzaMXErR9I/AAAAAAAAAmY/e1FOdyKS3Dc/s1600-h/RodneyReading.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5200771575592994770" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; CURSOR: pointer" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_rSl4smdeFYQ/SCzaMXErR9I/AAAAAAAAAmY/e1FOdyKS3Dc/s320/RodneyReading.jpg" border="0" /></a>What a fascinating read! I have to admit that I was skeptical when Zoe suggested I visit the library for a copy of <span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold; FONT-STYLE: italic">Everyone Poops</span> by Taro Gomi. Not only is the subject matter rather delicate, I am leery of books with garish illustrations on the cover. There was an incident with a pop-up book that I don’t intend to revisit; I prefer my reading material to not jump out at me and based on the title and cover, I was nervous about what I was getting myself into.<br /><br />My humans sometimes get frustrated with my reluctance to provide robust fecal samples whenever the mood strikes them. They fail to understand that even when I whine at the back door, apparently urgent in my need to relieve myself, an immediate evacuation is not guaranteed. The daunting task of creating one of my substantial bowel movements requires the utmost concentration and perfect environmental circumstances. I will abandon the task mid-squat if there is the slightest disturbance in my realm. If some wise-ass squirrel is watching me from a nearby tree – no, that simply won’t do. When the weather is warm and sunny, I may need a quick nap in the nice green-smelling grass before I bless it with the fruit of my bowels. And frankly, sometimes it just doesn’t<span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"> feel</span> right and a relaxing 20-minute stroll around the backyard helps put me in the zone. Since the humans are always pointing out that I “have all the time in the world while some of us have to get to work”, I don’t see what the issue is. I can’t fathom what their nightmare world must be like if little things like an hour-long poop in the rain causes such stress and turmoil.<br /><br />Anyhow, <span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold; FONT-STYLE: italic">Everyone Poops</span> makes some good points. Some of us find pooping unpleasant and sometimes even a little bit scary. The author provides reassuring statistics and even uses humor to diffuse the tension of dealing with a sensitive topic (see the chapter on camels – hilarious!). The illustrations within are realistic and it is comforting to see that although all animals and people are different from one another, we are united in our grimacing.<br /><br />If there is one flaw I could pinpoint, it is the lack of representation of dogs in the book. However, the parting message calmed my unease with its logic and simplicity:<br /><br />“All living things eat, so Everyone Poops!”<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_rSl4smdeFYQ/SCzacHErR-I/AAAAAAAAAmg/JeCJEuJYxYI/s1600-h/RodneyReading3.jpg"></a><div></div>Ninanoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7945883350018681993.post-1458494081344865342008-05-07T16:19:00.001-07:002008-05-09T06:12:06.765-07:00Rodney's Eccentric Grandpa<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_rSl4smdeFYQ/SCI5FqqXiCI/AAAAAAAAAmA/SoT8f3yYVns/s1600-h/Grandpa.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5197779689453094946" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; WIDTH: 182px; CURSOR: pointer; HEIGHT: 224px" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_rSl4smdeFYQ/SCI5FqqXiCI/AAAAAAAAAmA/SoT8f3yYVns/s320/Grandpa.jpg" border="0" /></a>Known for excessive beer drinking and telling sketchy stories of the days of yore when his ancestors lived in castles and ruled the Irish countryside, my Grandpa was a prickly bud on the old family tree.<br /><br />These stories always ended the same way: Inevitably, someone would attempt to point out that his ancestors actually came from China which would result in his challenging them to a "Lord of the Dance" competition during which he would fall off the table and pass out.<br /><br />Later I would help him recover by reading to him from a book of Celtic mythology and feeding him Chicken McNuggets, which he liked because they sounded Irish and reminded him of his homeland and of times when his ancestors ruled the Irish countryside.<br /><br />He would then ask me to pour some Guinness in his bowl and the whole thing would start over again.<br /><br />Born 'Mr. Fuzzy Wuzzy Pumpkin', he later changed his name to 'Lord Killian' in an elaborate ceremony while his humans were on vacation. But everyone just calls him 'El Diablo.' <a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_rSl4smdeFYQ/SCRLSsuCf0I/AAAAAAAAAmI/QOqKdurA9lM/s1600-h/celticKnot.gif"></a><div> </div><div></div><div><em><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></em></div><div><em><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></em></div><div><em><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></em></div><div><em><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></em></div><div><em><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></em></div><div><em><span style="font-size:85%;"><a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_rSl4smdeFYQ/SCRLusuCf1I/AAAAAAAAAmQ/krbuE0RLlhY/s1600-h/celticKnot.gif"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5198363135542722386" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 62px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 57px" height="55" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_rSl4smdeFYQ/SCRLusuCf1I/AAAAAAAAAmQ/krbuE0RLlhY/s200/celticKnot.gif" width="60" border="0" /></a></span></em></div><div><em><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></em> </div><div><em><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></em> </div><div><em><span style="font-size:85%;">*Gaelic meaning of Killian: small but warlike</span></em></div>Ninanoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7945883350018681993.post-40034423241664184182008-05-02T14:27:00.000-07:002008-05-03T05:27:38.449-07:00Zoe on: How to Befriend a Cat<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_rSl4smdeFYQ/SBvBzYhAfpI/AAAAAAAAAlQ/plDufQFMdUg/s1600-h/Basking.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_rSl4smdeFYQ/SBvBzYhAfpI/AAAAAAAAAlQ/plDufQFMdUg/s200/Basking.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5195959683600383634" border="0" /></a>There are those who would say that an attempt made to befriend a cat, whether you are dog or human, is a completely useless venture. A recent discussion on this topic at the local dog park resulted in much scoffing. <span style="font-style: italic;">“Impossible!”</span>, cried the French Great Pyrenees. <span style="font-style: italic;">“Piffle!”</span>, snorted the English Bulldog. <span style="font-style: italic;">“Why bother?”</span>, muttered nearly all the other international skeptics present.<span style="font-style: italic;"></span><br /><br />I, however, do not follow this tack. When you think about it, we have so much in common: abhorrence of baths, distrust of squirrels, intense interest in the opening of cans in the kitchen, etc. Think of all the fun we could have together! Utter nonsense and a complete waste of time? I don’t buy it.<br /><br />Having said all that, I will admit that it is not easy. My techniques are sort of a work-in-progress, but I believe I am on the right track and if I stay the course I will find success.<br /><br />Eventually.<br /><br />The key here is perseverance. Determination. Relentlessness in the face<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_rSl4smdeFYQ/SBvCA4hAfrI/AAAAAAAAAlg/Es0DF4vjkQY/s1600-h/Facilities.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_rSl4smdeFYQ/SBvCA4hAfrI/AAAAAAAAAlg/Es0DF4vjkQY/s200/Facilities.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5195959915528617650" border="0" /></a> of incessant rejection. There will be times when your peers or even your humans may try to discourage you. Don’t become disheartened; they are merely concerned for your feelings and do not want to see you hurt. Your human might even take you aside now and then for talks about your “obsessive pursuit of the kitty”. She might use words like: “futile”, “facial injury”, “hates you”, “not de-clawed”, “will continue to hate you”, or even “when hell freezes over”.<br /><br />La, la, la, la, la.<br /><br />We are dogs and can choose when to understand their language and when to simply execute a blank stare and continue doing what we feel is best.<br /><br />Here is some basic advice for beginners:<br />• Do not be deterred by a grumpy face, surly disposition, or uninviting body language.<br />• Learn to bob and weave.<br />• Embrace pain. Pain is your friend; become acquainted with it. Love it. Seek it out.<br />• Stay positive!<br /><br />Once you’ve got these simple tips mastered you can begin to employ some elementary tactics to extend the paw of friendship.<br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:100%;" >(*Please note that I will use feminine pronouns from here on out when referring to the object of my as yet unappreciated attentions. This is not due to the rampant misconception that all cats are female and automatically called ‘she’ (and by weird contrast all dogs are called ‘he’ - appalling!), but because my particular feline happens to have lad</span><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:100%;" >y p</span><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:100%;" >arts and I don’t want to keep typing ‘he/she’. It’s annoying.)</span><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_rSl4smdeFYQ/SBvBzohAfqI/AAAAAAAAAlY/O4UlY7X_bIo/s1600-h/Mealtime.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_rSl4smdeFYQ/SBvBzohAfqI/AAAAAAAAAlY/O4UlY7X_bIo/s200/Mealtime.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5195959687895350946" border="0" /></a>As with any relationship, a sharing of interests is always a good idea. Learn to share your cat’s hobbies. Follow her everywhere exuding a never-ceasing presence. Make it your business to know everything she is doing. Monitor her meals with interest. Share the sunny patch of floor in the living room and bask in the warmth along side her (ignore any icy vibes emanating from her as it will ruin the coziness). Respectfully observe her meticulous use of the facilities.<br /><br />I tenaciously applied these stratagems for 2 years before I felt ready to move our relationship along and progress to the next level, which was sort of a guerilla approach to friendship. This involved running at her with playful intensity when she least expected it and wild attempts to leap onto the high surfaces she used in coy attempts to seek refuge (furniture backs, table tops, etc.). Everyone likes a nice game of <span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">Surprise!</span> The resulting nuclear energy that would throb from her eyes clearly expressed very intense appreciation of my gestures. The playful swats on the nose that she would give me were expressions of uncontainable enthusiasm and perhaps invitations to try again. She didn’t mean to draw blood.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_rSl4smdeFYQ/SBvCa4hAfsI/AAAAAAAAAlo/0bJ2bU0uZDE/s1600-h/1-Observation.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_rSl4smdeFYQ/SBvCa4hAfsI/AAAAAAAAAlo/0bJ2bU0uZDE/s320/1-Observation.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5195960362205216450" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_rSl4smdeFYQ/SBvCyYhAftI/AAAAAAAAAlw/H5LPd_nLF9U/s1600-h/2-Execution.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_rSl4smdeFYQ/SBvCyYhAftI/AAAAAAAAAlw/H5LPd_nLF9U/s320/2-Execution.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5195960765932142290" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_rSl4smdeFYQ/SBvDQYhAfuI/AAAAAAAAAl4/3hbEvxOb9Qo/s1600-h/3-Aftermath.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_rSl4smdeFYQ/SBvDQYhAfuI/AAAAAAAAAl4/3hbEvxOb9Qo/s320/3-Aftermath.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5195961281328217826" border="0" /></a>As I said, this is an ever-evolving exercise in determination to bridge the companion animal gap. I’m convinced the key is to show her that I don’t intend to give up. She can’t spurn my advances forever......right?<br /><br />It is said that dogs enrich the lives of those around them. Human puppies build strong bonds with us that carry into their adult years and help shape them into caring, responsible adult people. The senior citizens of their species benefit physically and emotionally from our professional visits to them in assisted living kennels. I am convinced that this can work on cats too. Imagine how much more fun, worthwhile, and relevant they could be with our influence!Ninanoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7945883350018681993.post-52877363750020951852008-04-13T07:30:00.000-07:002009-03-11T08:44:29.735-07:00The Midnight Intruder<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_rSl4smdeFYQ/SAIgxHg5RhI/AAAAAAAAAkU/BNI27BtsqEA/s1600-h/ConvoRodney.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5188745748886930962" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; CURSOR: pointer" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_rSl4smdeFYQ/SAIgxHg5RhI/AAAAAAAAAkU/BNI27BtsqEA/s200/ConvoRodney.jpg" border="0" /></a><span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold">Rodney’s Story: </span><br /><br />I was enjoying a quiet evening at home, relaxing on the living room floor and contemplating <span style="font-family:arial;font-size:180%;"><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;"><a href="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2308/2410693822_3c21a8623c.jpg?v=0">Pi</a></span> </span>– occasionally I like to recite it to the 100th decimal point to keep my mind sharp – when there was suddenly a loud and troublesome pounding at the door. It was well into the wee hours of the morning! Who could be calling at such an hour?<br /><br />I marched to the door, stood proudly and demanded:<br /><br /><em>“You there! Identify yourself forthwith or suffer a formidable demonstration of my command of this fortress!”</em><br /><br />The knocking ceased immediately and the sound of rapidly retreating human feet could be heard departing our property.<br /><br />Nina, impressed with my ability to protect the homestead, treated me to lots of petting and suggested I rest in bed to recuperate from my vigorous display of bravery. I have a responsibility as a dog; it was simply all in a day’s work. However, I <span style="FONT-STYLE: italic">was</span> a feeling a bit overworked so I accepted her offer of some well-earned R&amp;R and turned in, leaving the household in the acceptably competent paws of my associate Zoe.<br /><br /><span style="FONT-STYLE: italic">The End.</span><br /><br /><span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold">Zoe’s Story:<br /></span><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_rSl4smdeFYQ/SAIeqHg5RbI/AAAAAAAAAjk/_xFSnLu0m5E/s1600-h/InnocentZoe.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5188743429604591026" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; CURSOR: pointer" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_rSl4smdeFYQ/SAIeqHg5RbI/AAAAAAAAAjk/_xFSnLu0m5E/s200/InnocentZoe.jpg" border="0" /></a>Wow. I accept that I am Watson to Rodney’s Holmes (or maybe Brain to his Inspector Gadget), so purely in the interest of accurate historical documentation, I submit my version of events. Readers can draw whatever conclusions they like.<br /><br />How flattering to be referred to as “acceptably competent” though.<br /><br />Rodney and I were enjoying a quiet evening at home, relaxing on the living room floor – that much is true. Rodney was asleep, dreaming about eating a <a href="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2179/2416300642_96e0a109d2.jpg?v=0">pie</a> and drooling all over the floor. I was formulating a plan to get into the front closet where the vacuum cleaner is kept. Perhaps when my humans go to sleep and I have the house to myself, I can get in there and…<br /><br />Suddenly there was a loud knock on the door. Now this <span style="FONT-STYLE: italic">was</span> odd. It was somewhat late (around 10:30 at night) and it was dark outside. We were not expecting any guests to shower me with affection this evening, so something was indeed not right.<br /><br />I immediately ran to the front door, loudly demanding an explanation and launching myself into the window in an attempt to identify this potential danger.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_rSl4smdeFYQ/SAIgxXg5RjI/AAAAAAAAAkk/k3mbuGKBMrg/s1600-h/SillyRodney.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5188745753181898290" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; CURSOR: pointer" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_rSl4smdeFYQ/SAIgxXg5RjI/AAAAAAAAAkk/k3mbuGKBMrg/s200/SillyRodney.jpg" border="0" /></a>Rodney lurched to his absurdly huge paws and since all I could see from the corner of my eye was a blurry brown streak heading the wrong way I assumed that his plan was to secure the back door.<br /><br />Nina stood up from the couch and made to join me but then things got confusing. An incredible commotion from the back of the house drew her attention away from the craziness I was unleashing on the front door and she whirled and ran in the opposite direction. Apparently Rodney needed back-up and she felt that was a higher priority than imminent home invasion.<br /><br />At the time I thought, <em>“Wait a minute – this could be just the distraction I need. The vacuum cleaner is right there in the closet. If I switch my focus to <span style="FONT-STYLE: italic">that</span> door instead…”</em> But this was no time for heroics; I had a family to defend!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_rSl4smdeFYQ/SAIf73g5RdI/AAAAAAAAAj0/8Nxas6kEWDE/s1600-h/ZoeWindow.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5188744834058896850" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; CURSOR: pointer" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_rSl4smdeFYQ/SAIf73g5RdI/AAAAAAAAAj0/8Nxas6kEWDE/s200/ZoeWindow.jpg" border="0" /></a>I listened intently for a moment and determined that there was no longer anyone at the door. Not content to assume we were safe, I prowled around from window to window growling impressively, hackles raised in what the humans call my “mohawk" and continued my vigilant perimeter-securing routine.<br /><br />After several minutes of this, Nina had appeared again and was petting me.<br /><br /><span style="FONT-STYLE: italic">“You’re a good girl. It looks like we’re okay,”</span> she said.<br /><br />Yes, yes, I know all of this. I have a responsibility as a dog; it was simply all in a day’s work.<br /><br />Then she sighed heavily.<br /><br /><span style="FONT-STYLE: italic">“I’m not sure what to do about your brother, though. He’s in the bedroom - why don’t you go talk to him? I’m not sure what more I can do given our language barrier and I have a mess to clean up.”</span><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_rSl4smdeFYQ/SAIeqHg5RcI/AAAAAAAAAjs/oSit31B2cB0/s1600-h/CatatonicRodney.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5188743429604591042" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; CURSOR: pointer" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_rSl4smdeFYQ/SAIeqHg5RcI/AAAAAAAAAjs/oSit31B2cB0/s200/CatatonicRodney.jpg" border="0" /></a>I walked into the bedroom to find Rodney lying on the floor in a catatonic state.<br /><br />I can’t really tell you exactly what happened, but from what I pieced together from a combination of the bits of English I’ve picked up, Rodney’s shaky, incoherent sobs, and of course telepathy, it would appear that in his haste to distance himself from the commotion at the front door (it is unclear whether it was the unexpected knocking after dark or my own insane cacophony of barking that frightened him into such an extreme state of panic), he blindly ran the opposite way – I say blindly because the lights were off and it was dark and also because his eyes were probably closed tight – through the dining room into the unlit kitchen and this is where things went tragically awry.<br /><br />Due to the loud commotion I remember, the fact that he was apparently missing for a short time, the presence later of a mop, and the giggling conversation between our humans, I present the following explanation of the shameful events which my hopelessly unfortunate little brother will never live down:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_rSl4smdeFYQ/SAR-tXg5RlI/AAAAAAAAAk4/CSNBkMCFxt4/s1600-h/RearPaws.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5189411988508853842" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; WIDTH: 112px; CURSOR: pointer; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_rSl4smdeFYQ/SAR-tXg5RlI/AAAAAAAAAk4/CSNBkMCFxt4/s200/RearPaws.jpg" border="0" /></a>At the end of our galley kitchen stood a paper bag filled with empty cans waiting to be taken out to the recycling container. Due to his haste to either a) get to the back door just beyond the kitchen to ensure the homestead was safe from all angles –or b) get to the back door just beyond the kitchen to <span style="FONT-STYLE: italic">flee</span> the homestead, forsaking his family and dignity, Rodney was moving a bit too fast and his ridiculous paws were unable to find adequate purchase on the slippery floor. At the point where he should have made a right turn, he instead slid with a deafening crash into the bag of cans.<br /><br />Already insensibly frightened, Rodney further petrified himself by causing the unruly cans to explode from the bag with a terrifying clatter, then roll all around under him resulting in his flailing about and making even more loud scary noise. Trapped in a nightmare increasing exponentially in horror by the second (perhaps one could use <a style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold; FONT-STYLE: italic" href="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2308/2410693822_3c21a8623c.jpg?v=0">Pi</a> to calculate this?), Captain Braveheart urinated uncontrollably all over himself and everything around him. I imagine he had absolutely no idea what was happening and was just desperately trying to get away from all the scariness. And it <span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"><span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold">just kept coming</span>.</span><br /><br />Hilarious! And sad. Very, very sad. But also hilarious and I wish I could’ve seen it!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_rSl4smdeFYQ/SASAXXg5RmI/AAAAAAAAAlA/7xJgdf7NmI0/s1600-h/RodneyKnee3.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5189413809574987362" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; WIDTH: 128px; CURSOR: pointer; HEIGHT: 142px" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_rSl4smdeFYQ/SASAXXg5RmI/AAAAAAAAAlA/7xJgdf7NmI0/s200/RodneyKnee3.jpg" border="0" /></a>The kitchen had become an obstacle course of puddles and urine-splattered cans which Nina had to traverse in order to search for Rodney. She then followed the potty trail - that guy can really hold a tankful—through the side entrance, onto the landing by the back door, and down the entire flight of stairs into the basement where it then led to a small pond in the middle of the floor. Personally, I have never seen the mighty Mississippi, but from what I gather, the stream he left and the reservoir at its eventual end rivaled the majestic river flowing from its humble beginning in Minnesota, south all the way to the Louisiana delta and emptying into the Gulf of Mexico.<br /><br />Rodney was found quivering next to the shelving unit at the far end of the basement. It took Nina a very long time to persuade him to come up the stairs again. She had to clear away all traces of the menacing cans before he would consent to being led slowly and fearfully through the house and into the bedroom where he collapsed onto the welcoming surface of his bed, twitching with occasional aftershocks while I consoled him.<br /><br />This incident has undoubtedly revisited him in taunting nightmares ever since and it is for that reason Rodney is allowed t<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_rSl4smdeFYQ/SAIeSHg5RaI/AAAAAAAAAjc/bYLhkgJeYQA/s1600-h/BFF.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5188743017287730594" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; CURSOR: pointer" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_rSl4smdeFYQ/SAIeSHg5RaI/AAAAAAAAAjc/bYLhkgJeYQA/s200/BFF.jpg" border="0" /></a>o get away with his abridged version of the story. Plus, as a writer I suppose he is allowed some creative license. <span style="FONT-STYLE: italic">“Rodney Vs. the Bag of Cans”</span> (as we call it at home) will probably become something like <span style="FONT-STYLE: italic">“Inspector Forsythe’s Bold and Unflinching Stand Against the Diabolical Midnight Intruder of Berkley”</span> once his book deal is finalized. That’s ok – he needs his victories, whether they’re real or imagined.<br /><br /><span style="FONT-STYLE: italic">The End.</span>Ninanoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7945883350018681993.post-22190471008672049682008-04-07T09:06:00.000-07:002008-04-07T09:23:33.584-07:00Mystery Abroad Solved!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_rSl4smdeFYQ/R_pKQO7DxxI/AAAAAAAAAjM/LF64XbPi9Tw/s1600-h/CaptainRodney.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 183px; height: 245px;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_rSl4smdeFYQ/R_pKQO7DxxI/AAAAAAAAAjM/LF64XbPi9Tw/s320/CaptainRodney.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5186539563614717714" border="0" /></a>Found the dog treats! Here I am in the Scottish countryside basking in glorious victory.<br /><div><br />Exactly what I was supposed to do when I found the missing treats was a bit unclear, so I ate them. They were chicken flavored and very delicious. This caused a bit of confusion when I returned to Scotland Yard to give my report, but mystery solved! Put a check in the win column for The Inspector.<br /><br />As soon as I figure out how to get off this rock, I will be on my way home.</div>Ninanoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7945883350018681993.post-7191863269770324922008-04-03T10:37:00.001-07:002008-06-01T18:49:15.111-07:00Zoe on: The Proper Way to Play Frisbee<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_rSl4smdeFYQ/R_VOeu7DxiI/AAAAAAAAAhU/yGqw8YQOB6g/s1600-h/P1000008-01.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5185136835885778466" style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; width: 200px; cursor: pointer; height: 150px;" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_rSl4smdeFYQ/R_VOeu7DxiI/AAAAAAAAAhU/yGqw8YQOB6g/s200/P1000008-01.jpg" border="0" /></a><strong>-</strong>Express enthusiasm.<br /><strong>-</strong>Allow human companion to throw frisbee. Preferably <span style="font-style: italic;">directly to you</span> so you can get down to business without having to chase the thing.<br /><strong>-</strong>Don't waste energy trying to catch it in the air. Let it fall to the ground (again, preferably at your feet), then pick it up.<br /><strong>-</strong>Your human companion has now become your <em>opponent</em>. Treat him/her as such.<br /><strong>-</strong>Proceed to taunt your opponent (There is no <strong>Z</strong><strong>OE</strong> in <strong>TEAM;</strong> it is not a viable concept). Incorporate these techniques:<br />~Run playfully toward opponent, then run away when he/she thinks you are about to "drop it" (whatever that's supposed to mean).<br />~Shake your head vigorously to disorient the frisbee and demonstrate your triumph. This is especially satisfying if you can manage to slap the frisbee against your opponent's shins with a good amount of force.<br />~DO NOT RELINQUISH THE FRISBEE. I can't stress this enough.<br />~When your opponent launches an offensive and attempts to take the frisbee, hold on tight. Tug. Shake head back and forth. Maybe give a playful growl because you are finally getting to the good stuff. Trot around him/her happily.<br /><strong>-</strong>Do not give the frisbee back for "their turn" no matter what they say. There will be frustration and begging - ignore it.<br /><strong>-</strong>Again with the taunting.<br /><strong>-</strong>Eventually your foe will realize his/her inferiority and will go inside <span style="font-weight: bold;">"</span>...since you don't know how to play and like to pretend not to know simple commands.<span style="font-weight: bold;">"</span><br /><strong>-</strong>It is now appropriate to gloat. Do not be modest: the whole point of the game is to prove your superior strength and frisbee-acquiring skill. You have done this. You are victorious.<br /><strong>-</strong>Attend celebration feast in your honor at Valhallah.<br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><em>*Bonus points: If there are other players in the vicinity, take their frisbees too.</em></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_rSl4smdeFYQ/R_VOrO7DxjI/AAAAAAAAAhc/DslmBApgfT4/s1600-h/P1010359-01.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5185137050634143282" style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; width: 154px; cursor: pointer; height: 116px;" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_rSl4smdeFYQ/R_VOrO7DxjI/AAAAAAAAAhc/DslmBApgfT4/s200/P1010359-01.jpg" border="0" /></a>Ninanoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7945883350018681993.post-74068537633489824322008-04-03T10:21:00.000-07:002008-04-03T14:56:42.587-07:00Rodney on: The WildernessUh, no thank you. That's more Zoe's forte. I know the types of things that can happen out there and I think I'm much better suited to my immediate neighborhood. Maybe the park. Maybe.<img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5185071298979808754" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center;" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_rSl4smdeFYQ/R_US3-7DxfI/AAAAAAAAAg8/6xybMIjt9kQ/s400/eagleVSfox.bmp" border="0" /><br /><p><strong>Zoe:</strong> "Looks like fun. Do eagles play frisbee? Then we'll see what's what."</p><p></p><p><a href="http://www.tarsiger.com/gallery/index.php?pic_id=komi1142612071&amp;lang=fin"><span style="font-size:78%;">Photo by Pekka Komi</span></a></p>Ninanoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7945883350018681993.post-6749170128976813092008-03-28T10:30:00.000-07:002008-04-03T14:47:12.554-07:00Mystery AbroadMy expertise is needed at Scotland Yard so I will be abroad for a short time lending a paw to my fellows across the sea. Nothing dangerous, just a run-of-the-mill missing dog treat case which I think will make an intriguing tale for my book series.<br /><br /><div>Before I go, I would like to take a few minutes to clear something up:</div><br /><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_rSl4smdeFYQ/R_VPfO7DxkI/AAAAAAAAAhk/FJNaQVNCND0/s1600-h/IMG_0623-01.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 211px; height: 159px;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_rSl4smdeFYQ/R_VPfO7DxkI/AAAAAAAAAhk/FJNaQVNCND0/s320/IMG_0623-01.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5185137943987340866" border="0" /></a>I was not hiding under the desk just now. I know what it might have looked like but I happen to be a big boy now and there is nothing to be afraid of. That's what my human companion keeps saying so I believe it. I do. Really.<br /></div><br /><div>Should anyone need to reach me while I am gone, please note I will be travelling under my alias:<br />Mr. Higgenbottom.<br /><br /><br /></div>Ninanoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7945883350018681993.post-27897492222124943752008-03-18T15:17:00.000-07:002008-03-27T20:43:48.470-07:00Rodney Vs. The Area Between the Dining Room and Living RoomRodney is prone to fits of spontaneous and illogical fear of random things. Over the last few weeks, he has developed a fear of crossing the threshold from the dining room into the living room. Following the sound of pitiful whining, one can find him crouching on the dining room floor, gazing mournfully into the living room and unable to move without an encouraging escort. As usual there is no explanation for this sudden phobia (except for it just being Rodney). Perhaps the area is suddenly haunted by a ghost? It is a mystery worthy of his investigative skill if he could just master his anxiety.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_rSl4smdeFYQ/R98jsT7gVyI/AAAAAAAAAa8/Dz6WCxcJpxs/s1600-h/RodneyVsDiningRm-01-01.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5178897340670433058" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; cursor: pointer; text-align: center;" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_rSl4smdeFYQ/R98jsT7gVyI/AAAAAAAAAa8/Dz6WCxcJpxs/s320/RodneyVsDiningRm-01-01.jpg" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_rSl4smdeFYQ/R98jsT7gVzI/AAAAAAAAAbE/8rIny38Iaj8/s1600-h/RodneyVsDiningRm-02-01.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5178897340670433074" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; cursor: pointer; text-align: center;" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_rSl4smdeFYQ/R98jsT7gVzI/AAAAAAAAAbE/8rIny38Iaj8/s320/RodneyVsDiningRm-02-01.jpg" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_rSl4smdeFYQ/R98jsj7gV0I/AAAAAAAAAbM/hrlimdskRl4/s1600-h/RodneyVsDiningRm-03-01.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5178897344965400386" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; cursor: pointer; text-align: center;" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_rSl4smdeFYQ/R98jsj7gV0I/AAAAAAAAAbM/hrlimdskRl4/s320/RodneyVsDiningRm-03-01.jpg" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_rSl4smdeFYQ/R98jsj7gV1I/AAAAAAAAAbU/5TWMyU-Cad8/s1600-h/RodneyVsDiningRm-04-01.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5178897344965400402" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; cursor: pointer; text-align: center;" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_rSl4smdeFYQ/R98jsj7gV1I/AAAAAAAAAbU/5TWMyU-Cad8/s320/RodneyVsDiningRm-04-01.jpg" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_rSl4smdeFYQ/R98jsz7gV2I/AAAAAAAAAbc/VrI5rfyazV0/s1600-h/RodneyVsDiningRm-05-01.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5178897349260367714" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; cursor: pointer; text-align: center;" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_rSl4smdeFYQ/R98jsz7gV2I/AAAAAAAAAbc/VrI5rfyazV0/s320/RodneyVsDiningRm-05-01.jpg" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_rSl4smdeFYQ/R98j-j7gV3I/AAAAAAAAAbk/hXHZAqKLR0M/s1600-h/RodneyVsDiningRm-06-01.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5178897654203045746" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; cursor: pointer; text-align: center;" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_rSl4smdeFYQ/R98j-j7gV3I/AAAAAAAAAbk/hXHZAqKLR0M/s320/RodneyVsDiningRm-06-01.jpg" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_rSl4smdeFYQ/R98j-z7gV4I/AAAAAAAAAbs/s0ij-oK2PWg/s1600-h/RodneyVsDiningRm-07-01.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5178897658498013058" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; cursor: pointer; text-align: center;" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_rSl4smdeFYQ/R98j-z7gV4I/AAAAAAAAAbs/s0ij-oK2PWg/s320/RodneyVsDiningRm-07-01.jpg" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_rSl4smdeFYQ/R-xpJu7DxQI/AAAAAAAAAfE/S8u9i2VNSBc/s1600-h/RodneyVsDiningRm08-01.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_rSl4smdeFYQ/R-xpJu7DxQI/AAAAAAAAAfE/S8u9i2VNSBc/s320/RodneyVsDiningRm08-01.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5182632887132079362" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_rSl4smdeFYQ/R98eEj7gVtI/AAAAAAAAAaU/qv5MQ8DcXss/s1600-h/RodneyVsDiningRm-08.jpg"><br /></a>Ninanoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7945883350018681993.post-36518302742744357112008-03-17T19:11:00.002-07:002008-03-17T19:49:10.822-07:00Zoe Vs. The Vacuum Cleaner<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_rSl4smdeFYQ/R98rDD7gWDI/AAAAAAAAAdE/6Wr6-R4RAvY/s1600-h/1-01-01.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 152px; height: 181px;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_rSl4smdeFYQ/R98rDD7gWDI/AAAAAAAAAdE/6Wr6-R4RAvY/s200/1-01-01.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5178905428093851698" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_rSl4smdeFYQ/R98rDD7gWEI/AAAAAAAAAdM/mtA5GkxLp2g/s1600-h/2-01-01.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 135px; height: 181px;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_rSl4smdeFYQ/R98rDD7gWEI/AAAAAAAAAdM/mtA5GkxLp2g/s200/2-01-01.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5178905428093851714" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_rSl4smdeFYQ/R98rDT7gWGI/AAAAAAAAAdc/N3HP6wguJt4/s1600-h/5-01-01.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 134px; height: 180px;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_rSl4smdeFYQ/R98rDT7gWGI/AAAAAAAAAdc/N3HP6wguJt4/s200/5-01-01.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5178905432388819042" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_rSl4smdeFYQ/R98rDT7gWFI/AAAAAAAAAdU/oqTTSRYNz9s/s1600-h/3-01-01.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 134px; height: 181px;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_rSl4smdeFYQ/R98rDT7gWFI/AAAAAAAAAdU/oqTTSRYNz9s/s200/3-01-01.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5178905432388819026" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_rSl4smdeFYQ/R98sTT7gWII/AAAAAAAAAds/8FCZc-BrK6A/s1600-h/6-01-01.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 135px; height: 180px;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_rSl4smdeFYQ/R98sTT7gWII/AAAAAAAAAds/8FCZc-BrK6A/s200/6-01-01.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5178906806778353794" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_rSl4smdeFYQ/R98sTT7gWHI/AAAAAAAAAdk/IjJzmz7XCjA/s1600-h/7-01-01.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 135px; height: 180px;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_rSl4smdeFYQ/R98sTT7gWHI/AAAAAAAAAdk/IjJzmz7XCjA/s200/7-01-01.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5178906806778353778" border="0" /></a>Ninanoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7945883350018681993.post-63972742382254324582008-03-04T06:00:00.000-08:002008-03-17T19:53:23.850-07:00Yay! 8 Inches of Snow Overnight!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_rSl4smdeFYQ/R98bsj7gVjI/AAAAAAAAAZE/5NHQRzYgeY0/s1600-h/IMG_0550-01.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_rSl4smdeFYQ/R98bsj7gVjI/AAAAAAAAAZE/5NHQRzYgeY0/s400/IMG_0550-01.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5178888548872377906" border="0" /></a>Ninanoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7945883350018681993.post-14073799999292676322008-02-17T13:45:00.000-08:002008-04-06T08:38:46.719-07:00Poor, Poor Rodney<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_rSl4smdeFYQ/R970HT7gVhI/AAAAAAAAAYg/pNUiSZcGjCo/s1600-h/IMG_0244-01.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 202px; height: 152px;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_rSl4smdeFYQ/R970HT7gVhI/AAAAAAAAAYg/pNUiSZcGjCo/s320/IMG_0244-01.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5178845027968767506" border="0" /></a>Once again, Rodney proves his intelligence and bravery know no bounds.<br /><div><div><br />Last night as Craig and I sat in the living room watching the news, there was suddenly a CRASH from the kitchen. Rodney comes running from that direction with his tail between his legs and the familiar look of confusion wrinkling his furry brown face. Upon investigation we discover that the Trader Joe's Frozen Gourmet Spinach Pizza we had planned to eat for dinner was conspicuously upside down on the floor, rectangles of frozen cheese scattered in all directions.<br /><br />Now, those who know Rodney are aware that he is very special. With barely two brain cells to rub together, he is famous for astounding errors in judgement and fear of nearly everything. Stealthily stealing a pizza from the kitchen counter as it awaits optimum oven temperature is just not something he should attempt. Known for shining moments such as the time he peed on himself and hid in the basement after knocking over a bag of soda cans, he possesses neither the intelligence nor the courage necessary to pull off such a caper. No doubt the tempting snack tumbling perilously to the floor instead of logically inserting itself into his happily gaping mouth left him feeling confused and betrayed.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_rSl4smdeFYQ/R970dT7gViI/AAAAAAAAAYo/S1sIKAR5_S0/s1600-h/RodneyKnee1.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 202px; height: 153px;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_rSl4smdeFYQ/R970dT7gViI/AAAAAAAAAYo/S1sIKAR5_S0/s320/RodneyKnee1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5178845405925889570" border="0" /></a>He then makes the worst possible choice in seeking a source of comfort and runs to Craig who is continuously irritated with Rodney's inability to be as smart and perfect as his sister, Zoe. Zoe is Craig's soulmate and their love is untouchable. If she and I were trapped in a burning building and Craig had to act quickly, I'm not sure I would be his first priority.<br /><br /><div></div><div>Needless to say, Rodney did not get the comfort he was looking for and just as Craig was starting to warm up to the poor guy, their fledgling relationship goes back to square one. </div><br /><div></div>But <span style="font-style: italic;">I </span>love him. His empty head will always have a place on my knee. XO.</div></div>Ninanoreply@blogger.com0